


Concussion

by lalejandra



Category: lotrips
Genre: Horses, M/M, Photography, Pictures, Poetry, Transformative Works Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-14
Updated: 2004-03-14
Packaged: 2019-07-14 19:45:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/pseuds/lalejandra
Summary: it feels good, like poetry; don't ask me to explainit just feels good, like poetry.(--heather nova)I've been looking so long at these pictures of you, that I almost believe that they're real; I've been living so long with my pictures of you, that I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel.(--the cure)





	Concussion

"Don't think it was more than it was," says Elijah. The door slams behind him.

*

TJ is really the only person Viggo can talk to, unless he wants to talk to Henry, which he doesn't. Henry doesn't need to know about this stuff; he already knows that Viggo isn't perfect.

Viggo's only vanity is his son -- Henry is talented and smart and extremely clever. He doesn't need to get too pompous; he doesn't need to know what his dad's been up to.

TJ knows everything, though, because how could he not? Viggo built TJ's corral himself, with the help of Omar. Although Omar mostly sat in the shade and directed Viggo to do this and do that, and told stories about Barbra Streisand and Telly Savalas and Rita Hayworth. When he talked about _Poppies are Also Flowers_ he called it _The Opium Connection_ , and it took until the story about Rita Hayworth kissing Angie Dickinson (on Omar's dare, a dab of some unidentified drug, and quite a bit of champagne), and slipping her tongue, for Viggo to make the connection.

He wants to be that guy when he's older, the guy who tells stories that make people think, the guy who is a legend in his own time, the guy like Omar. Viggo called him Mr. Sharif or Sir until Omar drew a scimtar on him and made him promise at swordspoint to "stop that bullshit." That's the kind of guy Viggo wants to be.

TJ's response to this confession is to eat some of Viggo's hair. Viggo takes this to mean that he should stop planning his own future and call Elijah. He asks, and TJ rolls his eyes.

Viggo had never noticed quite how much TJ resembled Elijah, but he doesn't think either of them would appreciate the comparison.

*

"No," says Elijah. Viggo knows that all Elijah had to do to hang up was press a button, but it _sounds_ like the crash of a receiver.

*

 _You don't remember rotary phones._  
I promised to protect you and instead I kissed you.  
How could you even think I am half the man you believe when I am one fourth the man I should be? What is a man if not what he should be, but what should he be if he should be anything? What is should? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?

_How?_

*

"I'm not posing for any stupid pictures," snarls Elijah, but he doesn't hang up.

"You can use them for your press kits," says Viggo.

"I don't have press kits." Pause, and Viggo can hear Hannah in the background. "What do you mean, I have press kits? I thought they were called publicity folios?" Another pause; Hannah is talking again. Then Elijah is back. "I'll get back to you."

*

When Elijah goes to the bathroom, Hannah says, "I can't believe you had sex with my brother. That's so gross." She isn't looking at Viggo; she's playing with a mirror ball. "I mean, I love him, but. Ew. He looks like a wombat."

Viggo puts down the roll of film he was opening, and strides across the room to his bookcase. He tosses a particular book into Hannah's lap and returns to him film.

"Viggo, I know what a wombat looks like." Hannah shakes her head, but continues to page through the book while she lights a cigarette. Click-whoosh; Viggo listens for the pop of her mouth and the deep inhalation, but she doesn't smoke like Elijah.

*

"This doesn't change anything," says Elijah.

"Why would it?" asks Viggo.

"I dunno." Elijah pauses. "Why wouldn't it?"

Viggo is feeling snarky. "I dunno," he replies, and Elijah bites him on the shoulder. Hard. Mean.

Before Viggo twists his hips to make Elijah cry out in a high, reedy voice, he makes a mental note to take a photograph of the bite mark.

The blood from his shoulder drips onto Elijah's face -- a fitting punishment -- and when Viggo comes, it looks like Elijah is crying tears of his blood.

*

The pictures don't come out right. At first Viggo blames this on the funny, pollution-filtered LA light. But print after print and nothing Viggo does makes the pictures look right.

Brando never had that look on his face.

There are two options here: One, Elijah was acting the way he thought Brando would. Two, Elijah didn't realize what was happening.

Viggo takes Hannah out to lunch. They don't spend enough time together, and she wears pink sneakers. Viggo needs to cultivate relationships with more people who wear pink sneakers. Viggo's T-shirt says "Fuck me, not Iraq." Hannah is masterful at ignoring the paparazzi; Viggo doesn't even notice it to ignore it.

Viggo doesn't want to talk about Elijah, but he always does it anyway.

"Three," says Hannah around a mouthful of cheese. "Elijah did it on purpose, just to fuck you up."

Then she points out the camera across the street. "Don't look," she warns. Viggo smiles at her; she reminds him of Henry -- too smart for her own good, and full of advice. If Viggo didn't want to get her brother back into his bed, he might have kissed her -- although whether for the press, for himself, or for her, he didn't bother to figure out.

*

"It worked," says Viggo to Elijah's voicemail. "Stop making headlines with the other Hobbits and call me."

*

When Viggo wakes up the next morning, there's a message from his agent: "I told you, no more T-shirts with slogans! I give up, Viggo -- I give up!"

*

"You almost kissed my sister. You're such a dick."

"Well, you weren't around." Viggo considers the cigarette in his hand and the photograph on the table, and uses the smoldering end to burn out Elijah's eyes. Much better.

"I really hope that wasn't in effigy." Elijah is sitting on Viggo's countertop, swinging his legs, banging his sneakers into the cabinets.

"I made coffee before you came," replies Viggo.

"Did you know you have mice?"

"They leave me alone, so I don't care."

The next time Elijah comes over, he brings a kitten.

"His name is Omar," says Elijah.

Viggo examines the kitten carefully. "This is a female cat," he says to Elijah. "But the name is appropriate."

"It's a girl?" Elijah raises his eyebrows. His stunned face is the same as TJ's "Bitch, please" face. Viggo smiles.

"I'm not," he says.

"That part I figured out for myself."

Viggo can tell that Elijah wanted to add some sort of insult to the end of the sentence, but he didn't. This, Viggo knows, is his clue that Elijah wants to be fucked. That, and the kitten.

*

"What's changed?" gasps Elijah.

"Everything changes," replies Viggo, and shifts his hips again. Elijah is face down, ass up, toes digging into Viggo's knees, and his voice is muffled by Viggo's pillows.

"But -- this -- I -- there -- ow -- god -- "

Viggo reaches around and grabs Elijah's cock, pulls it hard. With his other hand he tugs on one of Elijah's nipples. They are the same color as his mouth -- bright pink, soft, is soft a color? Viggo moves his hips side to side and Elijah clenches down.

Viggo is going to have to remember to not just throw these sheets onto the floor; they need to be washed.

*

Viggo books studio time and leaves messages for Dominic and Elijah and Billy. None of them come. Viggo hums into the microphone for three hours; Henry's bass is a heavy line behind him.

*

Viggo books studio time and leaves messages for Dominic and Elijah and Billy. Billy comes, and they sing Sinatra together for an hour before Billy has to leave. Billy brought his guitar, and the last song they record is Billy's cover of "Hit Me Baby, One More Time"; Viggo thought Billy had written it, but apparently it was originally a pop song by some blonde girl. Billy promises that next time he will read poetry, slur his words, get really drunk, and curse in Gaelic.

*

Viggo books studio time and leaves messages for Dominic and Elijah and Billy. Dominic comes, dragging Colin with him. "I thought you were with that kid with the weird ears," says Viggo.

"I like Colin's ears better," replies Dom.

"Ah, man, I fuckin' thought you were straight," says Colin. "That explains why you fuckin' been humpin' my leg." He's got a half-drunk beer in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other, and they've only been in the room for three minutes, if that.

Viggo likes him already, and likes him even more when he kisses Dominic, arms out to his sides, hips moving, oblivious to anyone who might be watching. Viggo likes his attitude, likes that he's everything except subtle, and would maybe introduce him to Omar, if he didn't curse so much.

*

Viggo books studio time, and goes in by himself. When he gets there, Elijah is already on the couch, jiggling his knee. The ashtray is overflowing.

"You didn't call me back," he says.

"You didn't call," replies Viggo.

"I left you twenty-seven messages." Elijah stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and Viggo wonders why the rubber doesn't melt.

"No you didn't," he replies.

"I did. Did you even check?"

"No."

"You're such an asshole." Elijah stands up, brushes his hands over his pants.

"I want you to smoke onto tape," says Viggo, and opens the door for Elijah.

"It's digital," says Elijah, but goes inside anyway.

*

Viggo books studio time, and invites Elijah, and remembers to check his messages so that Elijah doesn't end up at the wrong studio the way he did the first time. He books the room for late at night, and sends the sound technicians home. He doesn't need them for what he's going to do -- well, maybe he needs them even more, but he doesn't care. Nobody needs to see his bare ass. Except Elijah, who shows up with whiskey and gets a glint in his eye when he sees the empty rooms.

Viggo's hands ache for his camera, for a tube of paint, for a charcoal. This is Elijah at his finest, channeling all the actors of old. Or maybe channeling himself; Viggo's glad he didn't let go, glad Elijah didn't realize Viggo was full again.

He pulls Elijah and the bottle into the little soundproofed room, sets up the computer, has Elijah test, test, test, unbutton his shirt. When Viggo's set the levels and can capture Elijah squealing as well as the shh-shh-shh of clothing, he goes into the room, closes the door behind himself.

*

"Whiskey makes you slippery," says Elijah.

Viggo agrees, but doesn't say anything. He throws his head back. Elijah runs the backs of his fingers over Viggo's stomach, and the chewed-up skin is rough. Viggo shivers. Elijah giggles.

"Whiskey makes you drunk," Viggo finally says. He is. Drunk. Slippery. He lets his eyes close against the bright lights, and his hands move over Elijah's sweaty skin. It's been a long time since he was angry about being forced into being linear.

Whiskey makes him linear, he decides.

Elijah's mouth is hot when it slides onto Viggo's cock. Viggo twists his fingers into Elijah's hair; he gelled it up and it's sticky, but Viggo needs to grab something. His cock is tingling from more than being sucked; his cock is burning. Elijah had a mouthful of whiskey, mostly swallowed. Viggo gasps and it turns into a moan.

Even though Viggo had planned ahead, he still hadn't brought lube. Or condoms. He wasn't sure what he thought was going to happen. Maybe he thought that he would stay outside and Elijah would jerk off in the little room, to Viggo's -- Viggo's something.

Elijah brought lube. Elijah brought condoms. Viggo likes the idea of Elijah walking around, driving, talking to people with condoms in his pocket. Viggo hates condoms, hates their smell and their rubberyness. But how could he ever not use one? Even though Elijah's already swallowed -- already -- blood -- fuck -- god --

*

"What the fuck?" asks Elijah. His cigarette drops ash onto Viggo's floor. "Is this why you aren't calling?"

"I'm busy."

"I can see that." Elijah walks around the room, looking at the paintings. Viggo's been possessed; all he can do is close his eyes and let the paint find its way to the canvas. He hasn't even been collaging -- just acrylic and oil. Not at the same time, of course.

"This is me," says Elijah. He points to a canvas that is entirely black, except for the blue in the bottom right hand corner.

"Well, it has your name on it." Viggo dabs with red, then with silver.

"I don't get it."

"You don't have to."

Elijah watches Viggo for a moment, then continues. "Are people going to see it?"

"No."

"Can I have it?"

"No."

"Are you going to show it to Henry?"

"No."

"Will you fuck me now, then?"

Viggo's head comes up. "I'm painting."

Elijah is smiling. Viggo wants to fill the gap between his teeth with gold. "I know," he says, and pulls a sachet of lube from his pocket.

*

Elijah goes home that night with the kitten -- "You are not taking proper care of Omar. Kittens cannot live on soy milk and mice alone." -- and with smears of paint in places paint was not meant to be put. Viggo kind of likes that. Where does this streak of naughtiness come from? Why does he giggle when he thinks of Elijah at premieres and readings and dinner with his mom, still wriggling from the dried paint on his ass?

TJ whuffs into his hair, and steps on his foot when he realizes that there's no carrot forthcoming.

"What do you think?" Viggo asks him. "Am I going senile?"

Viggo chooses to interpret TJ's glare as a resounding no, but figures that it's probably a yes. Or that was TJ's "Give me sugar cubes, asshole" look. The latter is probably the most accurate. Viggo doesn't care.

"Do you think..." Viggo trails off and runs his hand over TJ's velvety nose. "Maybe I should talk to Henry. Hey -- don't step on my foot again, brother."

*

Viggo isn't sure how to feel about the fact that he's back to being himself, to being full, to not giving interviews and not going on auditions. He's back to recording and writing and painting and fucking and drinking and chatting with Henry and Christine. He's full. He is totally full.

And Elijah is still around.

Does that mean anything?

Viggo decides he doesn't care. If Elijah is around, Elijah is around. If Henry notices, Henry notices; hopefully Henry won't need an explanation. Maybe Christine will, but Henry won't. Maybe the public will, but Dominic is drawing most of the cameras now, with Ian and Colin and Viggo is pretty sure that Hannah explained to him why Dominic wasn't in Glasgow with Billy, but he wasn't paying attention.

Annoying but comforting.

It will be summer in a few weeks. Viggo will take Henry, take TJ, take his paints, and go to New Zealand for a while. Maybe mix Elijah's shrieks and the shh-shh-shh of his clothing into Billy's poetry and curses, and cut a rough album. Maybe walk barefoot through the woods, watch the sun rise, and think about. Stuff.

*

"What do you think this means?" asks Elijah. He's in a rocking chair that Viggo made himself, pushing into the rhythm with one bare foot. The other is tucked under his ass. Viggo's in the chair Henry made.

"What do you mean?" replies Viggo. "It could mean anything."

A pause for a drag, exhale. "I dunno," Elijah finally says.

"It could mean anything," Viggo repeats. The sun is coming up; the sky is pale yellow and dark orange against the trees.

"All right." Elijah passes the cigarette to Viggo. "What is this?"

"It can be anything." Viggo tastes Elijah's saliva on the filter.

"So it's something?" Elijah takes the cigarette back. Viggo watches him lick the filter before he puts it back into his mouth.

"It doesn't have to be." Viggo puts his foot out and stops the rocking of Elijah's chair, picks up his camera.

Elijah's eyes flick up to Viggo's. "It could be, though."

Viggo nods slowly and brings the lens into focus. "Could be."

Elijah holds his cigarette down, out of the frame. Viggo takes a picture of the sun rising behind Elijah and Elijah smiles, puffs on the cigarette. Viggo snaps another picture, this time with the smoke obscuring the sun.

"Could be," says Elijah, and hands the cigarette to Viggo.

  



End file.
